


The dreams that you wish will come true

by ellalightwood



Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 07:14:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14744337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellalightwood/pseuds/ellalightwood
Summary: Loosely based on Cinderella (the Disney version). Everyone is the age they were in The Mortal Instruments. Helen is a poor girl struggling to take care of her younger siblings, until one day she wishes to go to the ball being held in honour of the beautiful Princess Aline.





	1. A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes

The King and Queen were throwing a surprise birthday party – a ball, at the palace, every eligible maiden welcome – for their daughter, Princess Aline, and the whole kingdom was abuzz with the news. From her bedroom window, Helen could see the bright colours of the flags hanging over every archway, flocks of people crowding every clothes shop in town, girls laughing and gossiping and comparing outfits in the town square, market stalls selling food and drinks and talismans with the princess’s face on them. Newspapers would speculate about what the princess would wear to the ball. Friends of the King and Queen would be there – Robert Lightwood, the Grand Duke, with his wife and children; Lady Fairchild and her daughter Clarissa; Lord Stephen Herondale, his wife Celine and his son Jace. Admirers would send extravagant gifts to her, handmade vases and bright silk dresses and jewel-encrusted rings. Wealthy noblemen would pay for their daughters to attend the ball, in the hopes of catching the eye of the beautiful Princess Aline.

 

“Helen!”

 

Helen, of course, would not be attending. For one thing, there was no way she could afford a dress lovely enough to be considered presentable at the palace. For another, there was simply too much work to do – her father had to go out to work all day, leaving her to look after six younger siblings, four of whom were far too young to be left on their own. And someone had to sweep the floors, prepare the meals, wash the dishes, feed the cat, clean the windows, get everyone dressed, make the beds, mend the clothes, dust the furniture, weed the garden, change the baby’s diapers – no, there was simply no question of her attending the ball. Not that she _wanted_ to, anyway. It was bound to be dull, and boring, and full of snooty, arrogant rich people who would look down their noses at her and sneer at the holes in her stockings, the dirt under her fingernails and the sewed-on patches in her dress. Rich people were such _snobs,_ thinking themselves better than everyone simply because they could afford things that others couldn’t. Helen and her siblings didn’t have it easy, but she would much prefer to be poor and happy than rich and selfish.

 

“Helen!”

 

Sighing, Helen got up. She had no time to be sitting around, daydreaming about some stupid ball, when she had six hungry siblings to feed. She made her way downstairs, to the kitchens, as she had done since she was twelve. Maybe, if there was time later, she and her brothers and sisters could have a pretend ball in the living room; she and Mark would be the King and Queen, and she would have Julian, Livvy, Ty and Drusilla pretend to be princes and princesses and dance together. The girls could make little garlands out of the flowers in the garden, and she might even allow the boys to wear their smart suits that were strictly reserved for special occasions. She’d play music on the piano – she could still remember some tunes from when she used to have piano lessons, when her father could afford a tutor. Dancing with one’s siblings, she thought, was infinitely more fun than dancing with some stranger who was probably after your money.

 

As she opened the kitchen cupboards to find plates and cutlery, her thoughts drifted to the ball again, much as she tried to stop them. She had to admit that dancing in a beautiful dress in the ornate ballroom of the palace seemed impossibly magical, like something out of a fairy tale. She imagined the food they might serve at the palace, the delicious smells and the brilliant colours of the palace gardens, the King and Queen’s thrones bedecked in gold silk and sparkling jewels, the beautiful music, the glittering chandeliers and champagne glasses, the elegant dancers in all their finery – and if she got to dance with _Princess Aline_ – she shook herself, exasperated. What was the matter with her today? As if she’d ever so much as catch a glimpse of the princess, let alone _dance_ with her. She was being ridiculous. Why would she want to dance with a princess, anyway? Princess Aline was probably a bad dancer. She’d be so busy sticking her nose in the air that she’d forget to look where she was putting her feet and end up treading on Helen’s toes. Bending over the oven, Helen got to work and put the ball out of her mind.

 

***

“I wish _I_ could go to the ball,” Dru said, looking at pictures of dresses in a magazine she’d found at the market. “I want to wear a nice dress like this one.” She held the magazine up to show Helen a picture of a garish pink ballgown. “Helen, could you make me a dress like this one?”

 

Helen smiled down at her little sister. “I could try,” she said. “I could fix up one of Mother’s old dresses for you.” She’d sold most of the nice clothes her family owned, but found that she couldn’t bear to part with their mother’s dresses – Mother’s perfume still clung to the soft fabric, little trinkets and tokens left in the pockets, her wedding dress wrapped in tissue paper at the very bottom of the box marked “CLOTHES – FOR SALE.” Now, she and her siblings mostly used them for dressing up, playing tea parties and re-enacting scenes from their favourite fairy tales. She idly wondered if any of Mother’s dresses would be fit for the ball – but surely not. Many of them would be considered old-fashioned by now. She’d be laughed at if she turned up at the palace wearing one of Mother’s old dresses, amongst upper-class ladies whose dresses were the height of fashion. Besides, the ball was tomorrow, and she wouldn’t be able to alter one of the dresses in time, what with all the work she had to do.

 

“Balls are stupid, anyway,” Julian said. “The palace will be full of grown-ups, so we’d be the only kids there, and no one would want to dance with us, and there’d be nothing to _do.”_ He tore a page out of his art book and crumpled it up before Helen could object to him wasting paper. “Dad says they’re a waste of money that could be spent on the poor.”

 

“Dad is right,” Mark nodded. He was standing in the doorway with his gardening gloves on, a shovel in his hand, two-year old Tavvy holding on to the other.

 

Helen picked up the shirt she was ironing, folding it carefully. “If the four of you help me with chores, I _might_ let you wear your smart clothes so we can have our own little ball after dinner,” she said, lifting the pile of freshly ironed clothes into her arms. “Livvy, Dru, would you come and help me make garlands?”

 

Livvy and Dru jumped up eagerly, following her out of the room and offering to take the clothes upstairs for her. As she watched them run upstairs, she found herself thinking again about the ball – why couldn’t she get the blasted ball out of her head? She’d never dreamed of going to parties before, knowing perfectly well that there was no use in dreaming. And yet…what if she _did_ go to the ball? What if, by some miracle, she found a dress that was suitable to wear? What if she danced with the princess, under a moonlit sky, with nothing but the sound of music in her ears and the stars above twinkling in Princess Aline’s eyes? What if nobody stared or pointed or laughed at her, if they couldn’t tell she was just a poor girl, if they thought she was the rich daughter of a duke?

 

 _And what if pigs fly,_ she thought, almost snorting derisively, pausing to pick up a book Ty had left on the floor. Dreams only came true in stories, she knew that much. Even if she _did_ go to the ball, Princess Aline wouldn’t look twice at her. She went upstairs after her sisters, vowing not to think of the stupid ball again. 


	2. Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo

The pretend ball didn’t help to put the real ball out of her mind. Playing tunes on the piano, watching Mark teach the twins to waltz and Jules spinning Dru around and Tavvy giggling as he tried to follow, Helen thought of the palace, which would be busy with preparations, and the princess, who was probably getting fitted for dresses at that very moment. She thought she might as well admit it. She wanted, desperately, to go to the ball, though she knew she never could. She wanted to dance, to feel free, to feel the weight of responsibility lifted from her shoulders. She wanted to meet the princess, whose beauty she had heard of but never seen. Was it selfish of her, to want these things when she knew it was far more important that her siblings had clothes on their backs, food in their bellies and a roof over their heads? Was it foolish, to dream of something that could never be?

 

Julian’s words rang in her head: _Balls are stupid anyway. Dad says they’re a waste of money that could be spent on the poor._ She knew the money for the dresses Queen Jia wore would feed her siblings for months. She knew the taxes they took from the poor went towards new palaces and bigger ships and royal weddings, instead of orphanages and charities and benefits for the poor. She knew it was unfair, that Princess Aline could afford all this luxury while thousands had to sleep on the streets. She’d heard her father talk about it often enough. But surely, surely, just for one night, it wouldn’t be too bad? But there was the problem of a dress…a dress fit for a ball. Maybe, if she asked Mark to cook breakfast tomorrow and get Dru and Tavvy dressed, there would be time to fix up one of her mother’s dresses. But Mark would laugh, wouldn’t he? He’d laugh at his silly sister, with her head in the clouds, dreaming of impossibilities.

 

_If only I could go to the ball…if only I had a nice dress…if only I could dance with Princess Aline…_

The doorbell rang. “I’ll answer it!” Dru shouted, running out of the room before any of her siblings could object. Helen heard the door opening, heard someone speaking in the hallway and her sister answering. Moments later, Dru was back, breathless from running, her garland askew and her eyes wide with excitement. “They said to fetch Helen,” she panted.

 

“Who said to fetch Helen?” Mark asked. “Is it Father?”

 

Dru shook her head. “It’s a _magician,”_ she breathed reverently.

 

“Magicians aren’t real,” Ty said, sitting down and picking up his book. Dru stuck her tongue out childishly at him.

 

Helen stood up, walking out of the living room, smoothing out her skirt as she went. As she went out into the hallway, she saw that the front door was open, and light from the courtyard outside spilled across the carpet. There was someone framed in the doorway, someone tall and slender, cloaked in rich velvet and silk. He looked up as he saw her approach, and gave her a courteous nod. When he lifted his head to look at her, she stifled a gasp – his eyes were gold-green, oddly bright, with catlike pupils.

“Helen Blackthorn?” the stranger asked. “My name is Magnus Bane. I was called upon to see you.”

 

Helen was fairly sure she had never seen this strange man in her life, and couldn’t think who would send him to see her. Was he bringing news of Father? Had something happened to Father at work? Or was it something else? Were they being kicked out because Father had forgotten to pay the bills? She remembered her manners just in time, and smiled politely. “Please do come in, sir,” she said. “May I bring you some tea?”

 

Magnus Bane shook his head. “I’d rather not, thank you. I’m in a bit of a hurry, and I don’t want to intrude longer than necessary.”

 

When they were settled in the living room, the children lingering curiously, Mark’s hand resting protectively on Helen’s shoulder, Magnus finally began to explain what he was doing in their house at this late hour. “The ball’s been rescheduled to tonight instead of tomorrow, so you can only imagine the fuss this has caused. I’ve been working nonstop since the crack of dawn. Anyway – I’m a warlock, and I deal in wishes. I’ve been sent here because I knew that a certain someone,” he looked at Helen, “had a wish that needed granting.”

 

Helen was lost for words. “I – I’m sorry – what?”

 

“Are warlocks like magicians?” Dru piped up, unable to contain herself any longer.

 

Magnus smiled kindly at her. “Magicians,” he said, “are mortal beings who can only do basic magic: card tricks, pulling rabbits out of hats, that sort of thing. Warlocks are different. They are immortal, and their magic is innate, it’s in their blood, they’re born with it. Warlock magic can’t be learned, unless you’re a warlock.” He turned to Helen. “I can sense when someone wishes for something, which is why I’m here. You wished for something, only a few minutes ago.”

  
Only a few minutes ago, Helen would have laughed if a man had turned up on her doorstep, claiming he could grant wishes. But there was something in the tone of Magnus’s voice, something in those strange, definitely inhuman eyes, something in the way he held himself as though he exuded power, that made her think he wasn’t joking around. This wasn’t just some cruel prank. He wasn’t just some deluded fool who thought he could do magic. As if to prove this point, Magnus snapped his fingers, and flames burst to life in the fireplace, bright blue, spitting sparks onto the carpet. The children gasped.

 

“I want a wish!” Dru said. “Please may I have a wish?” she amended at the stern look Helen gave her.

 

“I only do one wish per household,” Magnus replied. “Miss Blackthorn,” he said, addressing Helen, “you do know why I’m here, don’t you?”

 

Helen opened her mouth, about to say that no, she did not know why he was here. But then she remembered sitting at the piano only moments ago, thinking of the ball, and wishing – _if only I could go to the ball…if only I had a nice dress…if only I could dance with Princess Aline…_ Magnus smiled, as though he could read her mind and knew that she understood.

 

“Excellent.” Magnus clapped his hands, and sparks flew from them. Helen resisted the urge to flinch.

 

“Wait,” Helen said. “Wait, I – that wish – it was stupid, I didn’t really mean it, it was selfish of me. I don’t need it, not really…”

 

“What did you wish?” Mark asked.

 

Helen looked at the floor, suddenly ashamed of all of that silly wishing for a pretty dress, for a silly ball, when she could have wished for clothes or food or money – things she and her siblings actually _needed._ “I wished to go to the ball,” she mumbled. “It was stupid. I’m sorry.”

 

Nobody spoke. When she looked up, she found that her siblings didn’t look shocked or angry or appalled. Magnus didn’t look like he was judging her.

 

“I want to go to the ball, too,” Livvy said.

 

“And me,” said Dru.

 

“Me too,” Ty added. He looked at Julian, who sighed and begrudgingly admitted that he, too, wanted to go to the ball.

 

“I wanted to go, as well.” Mark squeezed her shoulder. “I wanted to take you all there – I didn’t tell any of you, but I’ve been saving up for months, because I wanted to take you somewhere nice. You deserve a break.”

 

“I’m going to grant your wish,” Magnus said. “You deserve a chance to go to the ball. Your financial situation will also be taken care of.”

 

“I’ll look after the kids,” Mark told her. “I’ll put them to bed, and I’ll make breakfast in the morning – you can have a lie in, you’ll probably be exhausted from all that dancing.”

 

Helen looked around at her brothers and sisters. Dru looked slightly jealous but was trying not to show it. Tavvy had crawled under a table, clearly uninterested. Ty was staring at Magnus. She turned back to Magnus. “Alright,” she said. “I accept.”

 

Magnus rose to his feet, blue fire crackling between his hands. “Stand back, everyone,” he said. Mark took his hand off Helen’s shoulder. Helen stood, holding her head high. Magnus waved his hands – blue light flooded the room, Ty’s hands moving involuntarily to cover his eyes. Dru gasped. Helen looked down at herself. She was no longer wearing a sooty apron and an old brown frock. She was wearing satin gloves up to her elbows, and a silver-white ballgown that shimmered and sparkled when she moved. It felt smooth as water under her fingers, and when she took a step forwards she discovered that her feet were clad in dainty glass slippers.

 

“Wow,” Mark said, blinking at her.

 

_“Wow,”_ Dru sighed happily. Livvy reached out to touch the dress. Ty stared at Helen as though he’d never seen her before – he’d certainly never seen her in a dress like this. Despite herself, Helen twirled, and found herself instantly in love with it. It was splendid, gorgeous, stunning, amazing, and perfect. She never wanted to take it off. She almost squealed, and then remembered there was a guest in the house.

 

“There’s a carriage waiting for you outside,” Magnus said. “Oh, and I must tell you before you go – be back before midnight. At midnight, the spell will break, and all of this will be over.”

 

“Thank you,” Helen said. “Thank you so much. I – how can I repay you?”

 

Magnus shook his head. “This is a gift from me to you. I don’t expect anything in return.” He held up a hand as she began to protest. “No, really, I don’t want anything from you. You’ve spent your whole life giving; now it’s time someone gave something to you.”

 

Helen turned to Mark. “Tell Father where I’ve gone,” she said. “And make sure the children go to bed, it’s getting late.”

 

“Yes, Mother,” Mark grinned. He kissed her on the cheek. “Have fun.”

 

They followed her to the door, waving and shouting goodbyes, exclaiming at the sight of a white-and-gold carriage drawn by six white horses and a coachman who tipped his hat when he saw her. Magnus helped her into the carriage, bidding her farewell and reminding her to be back before midnight, waving off her attempts to thank him again. With that, the carriage started to move, and she turned to look as it rounded a corner and her house disappeared from view.


	3. So This Is Love

The palace was even more splendid when viewed up close. Nervous, sure that someone would be able to tell that she didn’t belong if they looked too close, she made her way through winding hallways and up grand red-carpeted staircases, half-expecting a royal guard to stop her and demand that she leave. But nobody did; she made it to the ballroom, hovering nervously at the massive double doors, watching people mingling inside – people who wore feathered hats and strings of pearls and gold-buttoned jackets and richly coloured silk. These were the people she’d watched from afar, the people who had money and knew it, the people who spent all their time plucking their eyebrows and dyeing their hair and bedecking themselves in silks and furs. She’d always despised such people, who had all the money in the world but chose to spend it on themselves instead of on helping the poor. They were arrogant, self-absorbed and snobbish – Princess Aline was probably the worst of them all, spoon-fed from birth, never a difficult day in her life. 

 

There was a line of girls in pretty dresses, pampered and spoilt-looking in their voluminous gowns, queuing up for some reason, whispering among themselves, but she couldn’t see what they were queuing for. Helen moved through the throng, looking for someone – she wasn’t sure who – she moved towards a long red curtain, glancing behind her, and bumped straight into a girl who had just come out from the other side of the curtain. “Oh! I’m sorry,” she stammered, blushing.

 

“It’s alright.” The girl smiled; she had a very pretty smile. She had light brown skin, and long dark hair swept into an elegant bun. She had big brown eyes that seemed warm and kind. Her gown was a deep cobalt blue, threaded with silver embroidery, matching her earrings and the blue pendant on the silver chain around her neck. She looked vaguely familiar, but Helen couldn’t think where she’d seen her before. “Are you lost?” the girl asked, looking at Helen, giving her dress an appreciative glance.

 

“Um – no – I mean, yes – well – I think so?” Helen finished lamely, blushing a deeper crimson. God, she was embarrassing herself in front of a pretty girl already and she hadn’t been at the ball for five minutes. Thankfully, the girl didn’t laugh at her.

 

“May I have this dance?” the girl asked abruptly, apparently startling even herself.

 

“I―” _Say yes, Helen._ “Yes,” she said. She smiled, and the girl smiled back. _Wow, she has a really pretty smile._ Praying that she hadn’t forgotten how to dance, Helen followed the girl onto the dance floor as the music began to play. The girl turned to face her, taking her hands, leading her gracefully across the floor. For a moment, Helen was acutely aware of all the people staring, watching them dance, but then the girl smiled and Helen forgot to be worried about embarrassing herself, forgot to worry about her appearance, forgot everything except the curves of the girl’s cherry-red lips and the feeling of her hand on Helen’s waist. They spun across the floor, lost in the music, the girl drawing Helen close before spinning her away again.

 

Dancing was easy. It was as if their bodies were made for each other, the way they fit together so perfectly, responding to each other with effortless grace. At times, Helen felt as if she were flying, her feet landing weightlessly on the floor, her skirts swishing like a silvery cloud. She felt breathless, but she wouldn’t have dreamed of stopping; when she danced, she didn’t think about the mouths that needed to be fed, the stairs that needed to be swept, the laundry that needed to be washed. She forgot about buying Ty and Jules some new trousers, mending the draperies in the nursery and getting rid of the mice in the attic. And, for the first time in years, she didn’t scold herself for letting her mind wander from her endless list of chores. How could she, when she was dancing in the palace ballroom with a beautiful girl in her arms? So she allowed herself to be swept off her feet, didn’t protest that she had to go home to her siblings, didn’t think about anything else except that the girl she was dancing with had the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen.

 

They eventually found themselves in a courtyard, with a large fountain. Helen, still caught up in the dance, had no idea how they had got there, but they sat together on the edge of the fountain, smiling shyly at each other, making awkward eye contact and blushing. They were still holding hands, but the girl didn’t pull away, and Helen didn’t either. The moon was out, the dark sky sprinkled with stars. It was funny to think that, mere hours ago, Helen had been daydreaming about this very moment, but even her daydreams couldn’t do justice to the magic of this night. She met the girl’s eyes again, noticing the sprinkling of freckles on her cute nose, fighting a sudden urge to reach out and touch a curl of hair that had fallen from her bun. The girl didn’t seem to object to being stared at; she was staring at Helen, a quizzical smile on her face.

 

“So,” she said. “You still haven’t told me—”

 

At that moment, a bell chimed, making them jump, forcing Helen out of her reverie. The bell chimed once, twice, thrice, and kept going. Helen counted twelve strikes, and the shock of the twelfth strike made her jump up.

 

“I have to go,” she said, lifting her skirts as she stepped away from the fountain. “It’s midnight.”

 

The girl looked puzzled. “It is,” she acknowledged. “But—”

 

“I’m sorry. It’s been wonderful meeting you, I’ve had such fun, but I really, really have to go,” Helen babbled, whirling about and beginning to hurry back down the path towards the palace. She heard the girl following her. “Oh, and the princess – I still haven’t met the princess – not that it matters—”

 

“The princess?” Almost at the doors, Helen glanced back briefly to see the girl, who looked even more confused. “But don’t you know that I’m—”

 

“I really can’t stay, I’m sorry – goodbye!”

 

Helen fled through the ballroom, hearing the girl cry after her, _“I don’t even know your name, how will I find you?”_ She tore through the red curtain, ducking and dodging past the crowds of people, out of the doors, down the stairs – so many stairs, she could have sworn there weren’t that many stairs when she’d first arrived – and through the corridors, her heart pounding as she heard people shouting behind her, doors slamming, footsteps clattering down the stairs, loud voices shouting _“Stop!”_

 

She stumbled momentarily, looked behind her and saw one of the glass slippers lying on the stairs – but there wasn’t time to collect it. She kept running, ignoring how awkward it felt to run with only one shoe on, sprinting to the gates where her carriage was waiting for her. Throwing herself into the carriage with much relief, she looked anxiously out of the window as the carriage sped away, watching as the royal carriages poured out of the gates in relentless pursuit, wishing her carriage could sprout wings and fly away to safety. The carriage bumped and rattled through the woods, and she watched as the fabric of her dress dissolved, replaced with the plain brown cotton dress and dirty apron she was accustomed to. The plush red velvet seats disappeared, and she was thrown unceremoniously from the carriage. It bounced away from her, shrinking in size, its walls turning from white to orange – Helen didn’t have time to register that her carriage had just turned into a pumpkin, or that her coachman had just turned into Church the cat, because she heard the whinnying of horses and the thundering of hooves in the distance, so she took off again, taking her remaining slipper off this time and clutching it to her chest.

 

Finally, finally, she saw her house in the distance, and she slowed to a walk, gasping for breath, her lungs screaming at her. She stumbled towards the front door, shutting it quietly behind her, sliding to the floor at the foot of the staircase. The house was dead quiet, the only sound she could hear being the soft ticking of the grandfather clock down the hall. Church leapt into her lap and curled up there, purring.

 

“Helen?”

 

Startled, Helen looked up. Mark was there, in his pyjamas and a dressing-gown, blinking sleepily at her. “What’re you doing up?” she asked.

 

“I wanted to wait up for you.” He came and sat on the floor next to her. “So, how was it? Did you see the princess?”

Helen shook her head. “No,” she said. “But I did meet a girl…”

 

Helen remembered the way that beautiful girl had smiled at her, the way she’d swept Helen across the floor, the way she’d been so light and quick on her feet, the way her nose scrunched up when she smiled – there was no way Princess Aline could be anywhere near as wonderful as that girl. If only she’d asked her name…but what would be the point? They’d probably never see each other again.

 

“It was amazing,” she said softly. “It was everything I dreamed it would be, and more. I wish I could have stayed longer.”

 

Mark stood up, helping her to her feet. “I’m glad you had fun. I’ll bring you your breakfast in the morning,” he said, drawing her into a hug. Together, they ascended the staircase, walking and speaking quietly so as not to wake the children, Mark listening in awe as Helen told him of her time in the palace. When Helen finally, gratefully, collapsed into her bed, she shut her eyes, knowing that her dreams would be full of music and the reflection of the stars in the dark eyes of a beautiful girl.


End file.
